


IOU

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1520501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is bad at cards. So bad, the Coterie has an IOU for his right ear. One night, they come to collect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	IOU

**Author's Note:**

> From this dialogue in Mark of the Assassin:
> 
> Anders: Couldn't you talk to Gallard for me? He likes you.  
> Varric: I told you not to play that last hand.  
> Anders: Yes, but I did it anyway, and now the Coterie has an IOU for my right ear.  
> Varric: Gallard won't collect on that. He's got enough ears of his own.  
> Anders: You didn't hear him admiring mine all night. And saying that he's always wanted a hat made of human ears. And calling a hatter.  
> Varric: Look on the bright side, losing your ear will add to your torture look. Some women really like that.

"I wouldn't play that hand," Varric muttered, leaning close to Anders.

Anders frowned in concentration, tapping a card on the table before tossing them down. Varric groaned. The other two dwarves shared a smirk, and the one called Gallard laid his cards out, a smug expression on his face as he sipped his drink. Anders hadn't only lost, he'd lost spectacularly. 

"And it would seem I win again," Gallard said, leaning forward on his elbows, tapping one thick finger atop the cards. "Pay up."

Perhaps he could eat at Hawke's again for the next two or three weeks. As much as he hated taking charity from the man, he was a good friend. And Hawke would be a bit more forgiving with him than a couple of Coterie thugs. With a sigh, Anders reached into his coin purse. 

And found nothing.

"I… ah…"

Gallard raised an eyebrow. "By my count, you owe me six sovereigns," he said.

"About that," Anders said, shifting uncomfortably. 

He thought he'd had more on him. Their last jaunt through the caves on the Wounded Coast had turned up quite a bit of junk that sold rather well. But of course he had to buy supplies for the clinic, replace vials that were knocked from the shelves when a fight broke out. And his trousers had gotten so threadbare they were indecent. All necessary purchases and he'd decided he deserved a night out to play cards and drink – though not get drunk, thanks to Justice. 

He looked pleadingly at Varric.

Varric sighed. "Looks like my friend's a little light. Anything we can do to alleviate this?"

Gallard stroked his beard, thinking. "Well. You know what I've always wanted?"

Anders flinched. Here it came. A bid for his mouth. Or his ass. He'd never had sex with a dwarf, and he wasn't about to give his body up now to pay for a stupid gambling debt. Maybe he could pay him back over time. Though the Coterie's interest rates were astronomically high, he'd probably be paying off this debt for years.

"What?" Anders asked, resigned.

"A hat."

"A… what?" Anders asked, looking at Varric, who shrugged.

"Going to get a pint," Varric said, shaking his head. "Don't play any more hands. At all. Ever."

Anders watched him leave, frowning. He couldn't just get up and follow Varric. Gallard was expecting payment.

"A hat," Gallard said, taking out a wicked looking switchblade. "Made of human ears."

The proclamation was so absurd that Anders almost didn't understand him at first. Then seeing the light glinting off the blade, he reached absently for his staff. Using magic in the middle of the Hanged Man would be stupid. A one way ticket to the Gallows, considering the handful of templars laughing at the bar. But at least in the Gallows, a crazy dwarf wouldn't be talking about wanting hats made of human ears.

"That's er… lovely."

Gallard and his friend both laughed. "Tell you what, Blondie-"

Anders flinched. No one got to call him that except Varric. But he didn't want to correct him, not while he was turning that knife between his fingertips.

"You give me your… let's say right ear, and we'll call it square."

"My ri- No!" Anders said, hand around his staff now. He lit a very small crackle of energy at his fingertips, just in case.

Gallard laughed. "Not now, not now. Too crowded, too messy. We'll get it later. Yours'll be the crowning jewel of my collection." He drained his tankard and stood, belching. "It is rather pretty after all."

Anders jerked away when Gallard passed, running a stubby finger around the shell of his ear as he went, friend in tow. Anders swallowed hard, face in hands when Varric returned.

"I miss something?" Varric asked.

"No," Anders said, muffled. "Just remind me never to play cards again."

-

Six weeks later, Gallard came to collect. 

It was well past midnight and Anders finally closed his clinic doors. The lanterns were extinguished and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep. Their earlier voyage to Orlais had left him exhausted, worrying about Hawke with that elf, feeling the jealousy as he flirted with her that he had no right to feel. Hawke wasn't his. He'd had his chance years ago upon meeting him, and since then… Since then, Hawke let him be. Which was what he wanted. Or what he thought he wanted. But the more he thought about Hawke now, the more he regretted his decision to push him away.

A distraction, Justice insisted. Love was dangerous and had no place in his plans. But he ached thinking about Hawke, the man's smile, his bad jokes. It really didn't help his infatuation that Hawke was as anti-Chantry as he was, the way he spoke about his sister being locked in the Gallows and how he paid off templars to make sure she was kept safe. He disdained the Grand Cleric and spoke of Meredith as if she was his arch-nemesis.

An insistent knock on the door broke him of his reverie and he glanced over. Frowning, he approached, reaching out to touch the latch.

"Healer, are you in?"

A woman's voice, and she sounded worried. Staff in hand, he unlatched the door. A hand thrust through the gap, blood pouring from a wound. Instinct took over and he immediately pulled the door wide. He was unprepared for the pommel of the sword that came down fast, instantly breaking his nose. He stumbled back, pain blossoming from the center of his face, dizzy, he tried to focus. Someone shoved him down, kicking his staff away and a second later he was flipped to his stomach, hands yanked hard behind his back.

"Told you I'd come to collect," a familiar voice hissed in his ear.

Anders twisted to see. "Gallard!" He looked beyond him, the woman wearing Coterie leathers, wiping off blood that wasn't hers. "Cheap trick," he said, spitting blood from his mouth.

"Mm, maybe it was," the dwarf said, taking out a sharp dagger. "But it worked."

A heavy weight pinned him to the floor, another dwarf holding his arms in place, and another set of hands held his legs down. He struggled against them, trying to call up any bit of magic that would help him, but found his mana drained.

"What-"

"You thought we'd come against a mage unprepared?" Gallard asked, chuckling. "You know, with the proper enchantments, templars aren't the only ones that can put you robes in your place."

Anders winced as the dagger bit into his ear. He tried to pull away and felt Gallard's thick fingers in his hair, holding him in place.

"Stop!" he cried. "I'll give you gold!"

Gallard laughed. "If you had gold, you'd have paid me a month ago. You don't. So I want your ear."

Anders howled as the blade pressed into the cartilage. He tried to pull away, but he was well-pinned and without magic, he had no means to defend himself.

"Please," he whispered. "Please-"

The dagger stuck, and Gallard began to saw. Anders pressed his lips together but no force on Thedas could have kept him quiet from the pain. It was one thing to receive an injury in the heat of battle, but this was _torture_. Another hand covered his mouth, muffling his scream.

The door bounced back off its hinges and the pressure on Anders' legs and back let up. He took advantage of their surprise as someone else entered the room, twisting to throw his attackers off him. The dagger sliced deeper when he pulled back, and he watched as Gallard received a kick to the face. Anders felt the blood from his nose and ear streaming over his lips and cheek as he rolled away, grabbing up his staff. There was a clang of metal against metal and Anders again reached for his magic, but found no mana to cast.

"Mercy!" a dwarf yelled.

Anders turned in time to see Hawke looking murderous, sword raised and ready to strike. He reversed his hold on the giant two-handed broadsword and brought the pommel down hard on the dwarf's head, knocking him unconscious. Anders saw Gallard's corpse, a deep blade wound in his stomach, lying supine in a puddle of his own blood. The others had likely fled at Hawke's entrance. Hawke looked around quickly to make sure that was the last of them, and then knelt, hand on Anders' shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice and on his face as he looked Anders over. He winced, hissing as he saw Anders' ear. "What the hell was going on? Why is the Coterie after you? I thought Varric paid them to stay away."

Anders scowled through the pain and the blood. "I don't need Varric's help to keep the Coterie off my back. Maker knows I heal enough of them for free."

He pushed Hawke away, embarrassed at the necessity of a rescue and got to his feet, leaning on his staff. Hawke, frowning, followed him to the back of the clinic. Anders rifled through his drawers and came up with a half-full lyrium potion and downed it. It was enough. He closed his eyes, calling upon his spirit healing to knit his ear back, gasping with the pain, and a burst of blue light fixed his nose. There was lingering pain and the feeling of dried blood, but he was intact. He took a cloth bandage and wiped the blood from his nose and lips, then dabbed delicately at his still-sore ear.

"It was personal," Anders said, looking back again at Gallard's corpse. "I lost a card game."

Hawke stared at him. "You lost… _a_ card game?"

Anders frowned. "So maybe it was a few…"

"Anders!"

"What, Hawke?"

Hawke frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "They could've killed you."

Anders sighed, tossing the blood-soaked cloth away. "They could have, but he only wanted my ear."

"I thought… I thought you were joking when you were talking to Varric about that," Hawke said hesitantly.

"Oh, you were paying attention?" Anders asked, irritated though he knew he had no right to be. He couldn't tamp down the feeling of jealousy that accompanied the memory of him telling Varric about Gallard. "I thought you were too busy flirting with that Qunari elf."

"I… who, Tallis?" Hawke asked, laughing. "Anders, she… no. I definitely wasn't flirting."

Anders frowned, shaking his head. "I have to dispose of a body now."

"Why are you acting… I just saved your life! Or at the very least, your ear!"

"So what do you want from me, Hawke?" Anders asked, turning away, trying to calm down. His heart was still racing, the adrenaline he felt from the attack, the panic of almost losing his ear.

"A 'thank you' would be nice. But I'll settle for a kiss."

Anders closed his eyes. _Maker, give me patience,_ he thought. Hawke's clumsy attempts at flirting were somewhat renowned in Kirkwall, perhaps all over the Free Marches by now. He would never forget when Hawke first flirted with _him_ shortly after Karl's death. He turned, about to say something about the timing, when his breath caught in his chest. Hawke was there in his personal space and stepping closer. He felt the cabinet behind him as he stepped back, and looked away. Hawke's fingers on his chin, and he let him turn his face back to look into his eyes.

"Well?" Hawke asked, eyebrow raised.

"Your timing is shit," Anders insisted.

"That's not a no," Hawke said, his tone hopeful.

Damn the man. Damn him all the way to the Black City. But Anders raised his chin, leaned forward and closed his eyes. Hawke met him halfway. His lips were soft, his mouth warm, and Anders forced himself to keep his hands at his sides, balled into fists. Hawke tilted his head, his own hand coming up to cup his cheek softly, and Anders couldn't help the slight whimper in the back of his throat. It was over much too soon for Anders' sake, Hawke pulled back, smiling at him.

"Damn it, Hawke," Anders breathed.

"What?"

Anders pressed his palms against Hawke's chest. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"What wasn't?" Hawke asked, tucking a lock of blond hair back behind Anders' newly healed ear.

"This. I was trying to… rid myself of these feelings for you. And you come in like some white knight with a hero complex." He glanced around him at Gallard's body, and the other unconscious dwarf, and sighed. "We'll talk later. I really need to-"

"Let me help," Hawke said. "And then you can stay with me tonight in the estate. I insist. For your safety. The Coterie might try to retaliate, even if it was personal."

Andres sighed again. Hawke wasn't going to let this go, he knew it. Resigned, he nodded, and together they disposed of Gallard's body, set the unconscious dwarf outside, and cleaned the clinic. Anders took up a few things he'd need for the night and locked the door again. Hawke continued to glance behind him as they climbed the stairs into the Amell wine cellar.

"I'm not going anywhere," Anders assured him, eyebrow raised.

Hawke smiled, reached back, and took his hand. "Just making sure."

They were silent as they moved through the estate and Hawke led him to a bathing chamber with a sunken tub.

"I'll leave you to it," Hawke said. "You know where the guest rooms are, and I'll have Orana wash your clothes while you're in the bath. Just throw them in the laundry chute."

Anders nodded. "Hawke," he said, as Hawke turned to go.

"Hm?"

Anders smiled. "Thank you."

Hawke returned the smile, though it was more of a grin, and left him alone. Anders sighed, feeling exhausted as he filled the tub and stripped, tossing his clothing in the chute as instructed. As he scrubbed the rest of the blood from his face, he wondered truly if Hawke was a distraction after all.

If he was, he definitely was a welcome one.


End file.
